


Weapons of Minor Distraction

by DruidX



Series: The Vexations of Elo O'Toreguarde [4]
Category: Titan - The Fighting Fantasy World
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Injury, Lesbian Character, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DruidX/pseuds/DruidX
Summary: In which Elo learns she's gay, Farren gets beat-up, Aveskamp makes an entrance, and our fave Watch Trio gets a rep for being Trouble.Set mid-Summer, in Elo's early Watch days.
Series: The Vexations of Elo O'Toreguarde [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902259
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

"What can I get you, sugar?" the barmaid asked, as a lanky human leant on the bar.  
"I'll have a whiskey - Old Fashioned, if you can. She'll have a small beer," the man flicked his head towards the girl behind him, who was surveying the bar with a pensive frown.  
"How old's she?" the barmaid asked, coloured shadows sliding over her face. "I ain't letting no kid drink booze."  
"I'm eighteen," the girl said, turning around. "That old enough for you?"  
"Sure honey." The barmaid paused. "Hey, do I know you from someplace?"  
The girl stiffened. "Shouldn't think so," she said.  
"Yeah, hey, sure I do. You're Mrs O'Toreguarde's daughter-" She paused, her expression flickering with a dozen different thoughts. "Oh. I- Ah. I think I better get the manager..." The barmaid took a step back.  
"That's not necessary," the girl said, holding up a hand.  
The barmaid flashed her an apologetic half-smile. "I'm getting the manager," she said and hurried away.  
"I still get those drinks?" the man called after her, a silver piece flashing in his hand. "No? Ah, well. Worth a try," he muttered, turning back to the girl. She rubbed her eyes.  
"Damnit Breakwood. I said you should have brought someone else."  
"Ah relax Bug," Breakwood said, leaning on the bar, elbows propping him up. "Least we're getting a chat with the boss like we wanted." O'Toreguarde crossed her arms, shook her head and turned back to her study of the bar.   


It was about as seedy as a joint could get, in her limited opinion. The majority of the lighting came from a giant, glitzy candelabra in the center of the room. It hung over a stage, throwing coloured spots from the twisting stained glass shards in a rainbow kaleidoscope. The air was dense, warm, smelling of spice and something else. Pipe smoke and incense lent a gauzy, lazy feel to the place. In corners and at darkened tables people... sat. Some even watched the singer on the stage. O'Toreguarde rubbed at her face again. She refused to think about anything they did more than that.   
"A Variety of Sin..." the girl muttered. "Gods, even the name is crass."  
"And that, girly, is the point." Breakwood and O'Toreguarde turned to see a man, human by all accounts but with enough orc blood in him to give an oily look, hooded eyes and wide, flat lips. He wore a suit that could have been expensive without the years of smoke and filth. "Now. What can I do for you officers?"  
Breakwood pulled away from the bar, a wide, disarming smile on his face. "Nah, mate. We're off duty." He grabbed the man's hand, pumping it up and down like a well spigot. "You must be Mr Pulnik. Pleasure to meet you, sir." The two thugs behind Mr Pulnik stepped forward, but he waved them back and extracted his hand from Breakwood's enthusiastic grip.  
"Still. What can I do for two of Torguard's finest?" Pulnik said.  
"Nothing at all," Breakwood said. "Just thought we'd swing by and take a look at the new joint sprung up in our back garden. Strictly after-hours. Like I said, our watch ended a couple of hours ago. Ain't that right Bug?"  
"Yep," the girl said, her tone clipped. "Completly off-duty. Just looking in out of idle curiosity."  
Mr Pulnik gave a thin-lipped smile that never reached his eyes. "That so?" he said. "Just recall that curiosity killed the cat."  
"Hmm. But satisfaction brought it back," O'Toreguarde said, holding his gaze. They stared at each other for a moment, before Pulnik gave another humourless smile.  
"I suppose time will tell," he said, snapping his fingers at the barmaid. "A drink each, on the house," Pulnik told her before looking back at Breakwood. "Enjoy your evening," he said, giving them both a nod before walking away.

  
Drinks in hand, the pair of Watchmen drifted to an empty table.  
"I feel like that could have gone better," O'Toreguarde said.  
"Coulda gone a lot worse," Breakwood said, stirring his drink. "His heartbeat was skipping all over the place, and he was sweating like a pig. What d'you think?"  
"He didn't lie, but... I don't like him," O'Toreguarde said. "He's shady. This whole place is shady. Siren's Call is much nicer. I bet he treats his girls like shit."  
"His boys too, maybe," Breakwood said, nodding towards an elf, drifting like a spectre between the tables. The elf noticed them and glided over.  
"Hey there handsome, anything I can do for you?" the elf said, running a finger over Breakwood's cheek.   
The human laughed. "Sorry fella. You're barking up the wrong tree," Breakwood said, flicking his eyes to O'Toreguarde. The elf turned, lifting the girl's chin with a long finger so O'Toreguarde was looking up at him.  
"Hrm, well, I don't usually deal with the little ones," he said, appraisement in his tone, "but exceptions could be made..." The elf gave her a slow grin. O'Toreguarde flushed and pulled away, swallowing.   
"Ah... Thanks, but I'm just here for the view," she said. The elf chuckled.  
"Shame. I was looking forward to being the one to pop your cherry." O'Toreguarde flushed harder and pushed back in her seat. "You change your mind, sweetcakes, just come asking for Crispin," the elf said. He kissed the tips of his fingers and blew it towards the flushing girl as he walked away.  


"Oh Gods..." O'Toreguarde muttered, snatching up her mug and drinking heavily from it. Only then did she notice the smug grin plastered across Breakwood's face, and the burbling snorting coming from him.  
"You ass!" she said, dropping the mug on the table. "You set this up!"  
Breakwood snorted and coughed. "No," he said, trying to get his shaking shoulders and repressed laughter under control. "No, Bug, I swear I did not. But, c'mon!" He grinned at her again. "You're a woman now. What kind of a buddy would I be if I didn't help you get laid? It's what partners do."  
"Really?" The girl gave Breakwood a flat look.  
"Really."  
O'Toreguarde took another swig from her mug and slid off the seat. "I need some air," she said. "Try and stay out of trouble."  
"I will if you will," Breakwood said, settling back to watch the singer.


	2. Chapter 2

The night air was warm, filled with the distant sounds of revellers. Something about the sweltering heat of summer always made the nights more alive. The feast day of Galantanka was right around the corner too, and O'Toreguarde watched merrymakers pass by the mouth of the alley in flame-bright clothes. She leant against the back wall of A Variety of Sin, and took a few deep breaths, purging both her embarrassment and the smokey interior from her lungs.

"You okay there hun?" came a voice to her left. O'Toreguarde turned to see a gnome woman, standing near the wall, watching her. She was tall and slim, unlike any other gnome the Watchman had met. She wore a sheer blue gown, clinging in all the right places, a silver fox stole thrown around her shoulders. The fur mingled with her blond hair, as smoke from a cigarette holder trickled up, past her face. "Miss?"  
O'Toreguarde snapped out of her staring. "Yeah, fine. Thanks. Sorry. It's stuffy in there. Needed some air. Y'know?"  
"Yes," the woman said, smiling gently. "Yes, it can be a bit much, sometimes." She held out a hand. "Aylun."  
O'Toreguarde stared blankly at the hand for a moment, before crossing the space between them and lifting it to her lips, giving a leggy bow as she did.  
"Elowyn of Toreguarde," the Watchman said, as she rose and released the hand. "At your service." Aylun blinked a moment, before laughing.  
"What beautiful manners you have," she said, delighted. "All for a common whore, no less."  
"Oh," O'Toreguarde flushed, then chuckled. "My apologies if I offended. I just assumed you were a Lady of some kind." She gestured to the other woman's attire with a half shrug. "You look like a million platinum."  
"And a smooth-talking flatterer to boot," Aylun said, a teasing smile on her face.  
"Just being honest," O'Toreguarde replied, smiling back.

"There she is boys," came a rough, male voice from the mouth of the alley. O'Toreguarde's smile vanished and she turned, putting herself between Aylun and the three bruisers entering the alley. She recognised one of them as the proprietor's bodyguard.  
"Gods damn," she muttered.   
"Mr Pulnik's got a message he wants to send the Watch, or anyone else with a mind to poke about in his beeswax. Guess who he wants to deliver it for him?" The goon gave a nasty smirk.  
O'Toreguarde took a breath. "Listen fellas. I've had a hell of a day. I just wanted to wind down, have a quiet drink. I'm not on duty. There's no need for this."  
"Mr Pulnik thinks there is. He thinks you Blues need to keep your noses outta where they don't belong."  
There was a quiet gasp from behind O'Toreguarde.   
"You're a Watchman?" Aylun asked.  
"I don't think Mr Pulnik has thought through how his message is going to be received," O'Toregarde said to the goons. She flicked her gaze back at the gnome. "I think you'd better get inside ma'am," she said. "This is about to get messy." In her periphery, the goons took a step forward.  
"Oh honey," Aylun said. She reached up, tugging O'Toregaurde's face further around, pressing her lips to the Watchman's.  
The catcalls from the goons brought O'Toregaurde from her moment of blissed confusion, and she eased herself back, away from Aylun. The prostitute gave her a wink.  
"Really, you boys should know better," Aylun said, over O'Toreguarde's shoulder. "You tell Mr Pulnik she's a paying John, same as anyone else." The gnome gave a little laugh. "Or should I say 'Jane'? Either way, run along now, like good little messenger boys." She ran a hand down to O'Toreguarde's waist and took the Watchman's hand. "We've got business to attend to." Without giving the men or the Watchman a chance to protest, she opened the backdoor and pulled O'Toreguarde through after her.


	3. Chapter 3

"You... I think you just saved my life," O'Toreguarde said, as the door swung closed behind her. The two women stared at each other in the dim light of the corridor. "Thank you," she added, eyes wide.  
"Don't thank me just yet," Aylun said, giving O'Toregard's hand a gentle tug. "They might see through the ruse. Come." They moved down the corridor, and through another door marked 'Private', where Aylun took a few steps down another corridor and pushed through into a room bright with lanterns and filled with mirrors and costumes. She gave a sharp whistle. A few heads popped out of from the clothes racks.  
"Out," she said. "I need the room." Three girls passed by with no comment, but the fourth dragged her heels.  
"Gods, you're so bossy Ay," she whined.  
"Shut up Dena. Now is not the time."  
The other woman, a half-elf, pulled a face at the gnome as she passed, but they all did leave.  
"Not that I'm not grateful," O'Toregard said, "but why are you helping me? You coulda just left like I told you to."  
Aylun hugged herself, holding herself distant from O'Toreguarde and frowned at a gauzy dress. "Pulnik's new in town," she said. "Been around a few months. They say he got chased out of Silverton. He thinks he can buy or bully the Watch into doing what he wants. His thugs will just do what they're told. Pulnik has no idea how things work in this town."  
"And you do?"  
"I know what would have happened if you'd gone back to the Watch in pieces. Pulnik's a  _ kuos _ . He deserves whatever he gets. But there a lot of people here who don't, and I won't see my friends caught in the crossfire of a war between him and the Watch." She finally looked up at O'Toreguarde, seriousness in her eyes.  
"If you can give me more details about what he's gotten into, I can make sure that doesn't happen," the Watchman said.  
Aylun rolled her eyes. "You're such a hero," she said. "Don't make promises you can't keep."  
"Actually, I think you're the hero here," O'Toregurade said.  
Aylun snorted and resumed frowning at the gauzy dress.  
"I mean it," O'Toreguard said. She held up a hand, ticking points off on her fingers. "You saved a damsel in distress."  
"You're hardly a damsel."  
"But I was about to be in extreme distress. You negotiated to prevent a war, and you did so to protect your kingdom. Sounds like a hero to me." O'Toreguarde gave a little smile.  
Aylun snorted again but turned fully back to O'Toreguarde. "I think you've listened to too many folk tales," she said, but a pleased smile still hovered on her lips.  
O'Toreguarde took a step forward. "So help me make it real," she said.  
"Oh honey," Aylun said, a lascivious smile slipping into the place of the former, more honest smile. "I don't usually do fantasy role-play, but for you? Sure."  
"Wait. What?" Before the woodling could say anything else, Aylun had crossed the space between them and was pressing her lips to O'Toreguarde's again. The Watchman's mind became a fuzz, as the gnome ran one hand down her side to rest on a hip, while the other tangled in O'Toreguard's short hair. As her mind became unhinged, Aylun's words floated through the Watchman's thoughts, lingering on one in particular.  
O'Toreguarde drew back sharply. " _ Schist _ !"  
"What? What's wrong?" Aylun asked, eyes darting over O'Toreguarde's face.  
"I forgot about my partner," O'Torguarde said, turning for the door.  
"Oh. You have a girlfriend."  
O'Toreguarde glanced back, a hand on the door. "What? No. That's not even a- Nevermind. I mean my Watch partner. I'm not the only hand of the Law in here tonight. I need to get eyes on him. Now."

  
O'Toreguarde shot out of the door and started down the corridor, back towards the main bar area, when Aylun grabbed her hand again.  
"Wait," the prostitute said. "Pulnik's office is this way. He won't risk anyone catching him in the act of beating on a copper."  
"Alright. Tell me where."  
"I'll show you," Aylun said, turning, but O'Toreguarde tugged her back.  
"No," the Watchman said. "You've put yourself in too much danger as it is. Just tell me."  
Aylun shook her head, her hair rippling like silk. "He has guards on the stairs. You won't get up without me."  
O'Toreguarde looked for a moment like she was chewing on an under-ripe berry, then shook her head. "Fine. You stay behind me when we get up there, and you do as I tell you."  
"Yes officer," Aylun said, smirking. O'Toreguarde rolled her eyes, then jerked her head, indicating the gnome should lead on.  
They passed by the guard at the bottom of the stairs with hardly a glance. O'Toreguarde didn't know if he thought she was a John or a working girl, but they were up the stairs and around a corner of the labyrinthine club before it mattered.  
"That's his office, just there," Aylun said, her voice low, and nodded towards a door with peeling blue paint.  
"Stay here," O'Toregard whispered back. 

  
Cautiously the Watchman crept forwards. She breathed slowly, and pulled a tiny black pot from a pouch on her belt, smearing its contents on the hinges and handle joint. The scent of pork wafted gently down the corridor as she replaced the pot, wiped her hands on her tunic hem and eased the door open a fraction. 

Peering inside, she could see a form crouched on the ground. The shoulders were narrow, the hair that hung from the bowed head was black, and there was a flicker of metal against the man's naked torso. A thick hand reached down and grabbed a handful of hair, wrenching the man into a kneeling position. O'Toregard watched, her heart in her mouth, as someone slammed Breakwood's face into their knee. There was a sickening crunch. Those inside the room cheered and laughed, as O'Toregarde clamped her mouth shut, swallowing a cry. She blew out heavily through her nose, as Breakwood was thrown onto his back with a yell of his own. With as much caution as she could muster through the fury and fear, the little Watchman eased the door closed and slunk back to where Aylun waited.

"Is he in there?" the gnome asked.  
"He is," O'Toregarde replied, her eyes smarting from the prickle of unshed tears. She swallowed. She motioned the other woman back down the corridor. "Aylun. You've been more than helpful, but I need two more things from you."  
"Anything," Aylun said, her eyes wide and serious.  
"In a moment," O'Toregaurde said, her voice low and tight, "I need you - or someone fast - to go to Watchhouse Eight and tell them that Officers Breakwood and O'Toreguarde are in dire need of assistance against six assailants. But first," she swallowed, attempting to relax her shoulders, "I need you to tell me what the hell Pulnik is involved in that's set him so on edge."  
Aylun stepped back from the barely controlled anger of O'Toregaurde's hissing voice and gritted teeth. A scream came from Pulnick's office. Her eyes flicked to the stairs, and back to the Watchman before her fearful frown settled into something more stern.  
"Weapons," Aylun said. "Not illegal, per se, but very dangerous, and definitely not good. I don't know specifics, but he's distributing alchemical and heavy weaponry for a group of dwarves, somewhere in the city. They ship the goods to him, no fixed schedule, he meets with a buyer, and the goods are shipped out."  
"There a buy anytime soon?"  
"Ah-" Aylun blinked. "Yes. Tonight."  
"With?"  
"I don't know. I've told you everything. That's all I know, I swear."  
O'Toregarde gave Aylun a long look before nodding. "Go," she said. "Now." The gnome gave O'Toreguarde a worried look, before turning and hurrying away. 

The Watchman closed her eyes briefly, taking a breath. All she had to do was keep Pulnik and his goons occupied until help arrived. She let the breath out slowly. She just had to be charming and persuasive for ten to fifteen minutes and no one would die. O'Toreguarde fought to stay relaxed. Just smile and pretend she was her aunt - controlled and charismatic Alexis - instead of herself. Ignore how many lives rested on this. Ignore the one life she valued above all others. Pretend she didn't care. Pick her words with care. Smile that lazy smile. Ignore how truly terrible a plan this was, and how much of a bollocking she'd get later. Because there  _ was _ going to be later for her to get bollocked in. O'Toregarde walked to Pulnik's office, pulling the bluff around her like a mental cloak.

She pushed open the door, as a thug was about to deliver another blow to her partner. She pushed her way to the front of the men and paused, one hand casually on a hip.  
"Hey! Sunshine," O'Toregard said. The thug looked over, and the Watchman shook her head. "Wouldn't do that, if I were you."


	4. Chapter 4

The thug paused, relaxed his grip on Breakwood's hair as he turned to his boss. Pulnick frowned, chewing on the pipe-stem in his mouth.  
"And why not?" the swarthy man asked.  
"Cuz you're already in a whole heap o'trouble, matey-boy," O'Toreguarde said, picking at her fingernails in an attempt to feign boredom. "You honestly wanna add murder of a Watchman to your list of charges?" She glanced up. Pulnik's frown had deepened, and he waved the thug away from Breakwood. "Oh yeah, we know about your little stash of wizz-poppers downstairs. We know all about Silverton. Even know about your suppliers. Been on you for weeks now. You really think we wandered in here tonight of all nights on a whim?" O'Toreguarde gave Pulnik a lopsided grin. "The strong arm of the law is about to come smashing down on you, sunshine. As we speak Officers are being mobilised, this place is being surrounded, and any moment now the Watch is gonna come through that door and book you, and everyone in this joint."  
Pulnik narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "Why're you telling me this?"  
"Elo, no!" Breakwood struggled to sit upright. "What're-"

The shorter Watchman rounded on him, thrusting a fist into his gut and pushing down on his shoulder before the blow could connect.  
"Quiet you!" she ordered, giving the shoulder what she hoped was an encouraging squeeze. Breakwood obediently retched, spitting blood on cue. O'Toreguarde turned away, keeping herself between Breakwood and the thugs.  
"As I was about to say," she said, "I'm telling you this because I want in. I brought you this information as a good-faith gesture - give you time to hide your little naughties. I've heard about the cash you're throwing around and I'm interested. I keep you ahead of the Watch, and you make healthy donations to my pay-packet."  
Pulnik snorted. "I already got plenty of coppers on my books," he said shifting his gaze to the corner of the room, then flicking back to O'Toreguarde. "What makes you think I want another one?"  
"Cuz there ain't no other coppers like me," she said giving him a quick, smug, grin - he was lying about having anyone on his books, and the little Watchman hoped it would be enough to keep him talking.   
"There are other halflings in this city," one of the thugs said.  
O'Toreguarde pulled a face. "Psh! Don't lump me in with that crowd. A halfling's just a woodling who forgot how to be one with leaf and root; shadow and silence. You need me, Pulnik. I'm light on my feet, can go most anywhere I please, and I'm little enough I can't get caught easy." She smirked again. "You'd be amazed at the similarity in skill between a Watchman and a thief."  


Pulnik gave O'Toreguarde a considering look, chewing on the pipe stem. "We'll test this idea of yours at a later date. For now," he snapped his fingers and pointed to three of his men. "Cam, Joey, Silas: get downstairs and hide the goods. You, girl, get gone. It won't do to have an investment immediately seized."  
"I'll take him with me," O'Toreguarde said, gesturing casually over her shoulder at Breakwood.  
"Nah. Don't worry yourself about him. We'll clean that up," Pulnik said, waving at the remaining three men.  
O'Toreguarde's heart gave an unpleasant squeeze of fear. "Are your ears filled with wool?" she said, struggling to remain composed. "I told you - killing Watchmen's a sure way to make things worse for yourself."  
Pulnik took the pipe from his mouth and pulled away from where he lent on his desk. "He's heard too much," the half-orc growled. "He'll talk."  
"No. He won't. I've made him culpable. Besides," O'Toregaurde said, turning to face Breakwood, staring into his wrecked face, "there's the Code to consider. He won't rat me out. We're partners, and partners protect each other."

  
Timber shattered behind her. The door handle boomed as it hit the wall.  
"Watch! Everyone on the ground! Now!" yelled a voice. Voices mingled in alarm and command. The heavy thud of running boots shook the floor. O'Torgude threw herself forward, intending to cover Breakwood, but instead found herself being hauled skyward by the back of her collar.  
"No one move," Pulnik snarled. His tobacco-ladened breath brushed O'Toregurde's cheek. Something cool and sharp was tucked through the folds of cloth at her abdomen.   
Through the suddenly silent crowd of thugs and Watchmen, she spotted a male elf dressed in whores' clothes. In his hands was a loaded bow, the string pulled taut. The woodling met his eyes. Someone was talking slowly, exhorting Pulnik to not be stupid. The elf gave O'Toregarde a slow drip of the head. She took a shallow breath, nodded back. The elf flicked his eyes to her left. His little finger stuck out from the bow. His ring finger followed a beat later. O'Toreguarde let out her breath, ducked her head to the left, as pandemonium exploded around them.


	5. Chapter 5

"Explain to me what in the Pit you thought you were doing?"  
O'Toregaurde blinked blearily at the trim, black-haired woman hovering over her.   
"Not now, Lieutenant Doyle," growled a big orc, crouched next to O'Toregaurde. "I've given her a tincture of hops, valerian and camomile for the pain. She ain't gonna be too alert for a while."  
"I don't care, Komens," the Lieutenant said. "I need to know what happened, what she was thinking!" She turned and paced away and back again, the long dark hair flicking out in its tail. "She and her partner and that elf from Seventh have scuppered this whole thing. I can almost hear Jabinzky and Withnail yelling at each other from here." She tipped her head to the side, as though she might actually be listening in to a distant conversation, then brought her attention back to where O'Toregaurde was being ministered by the orc. "Start talking, squirt!"  
"You don't have to," Komens said, pausing to turn O'Toreguarde's face away when she tried to look at where he was stitching up the arrow wound in her shoulder.  
"No. It's okay," O'Toreguarde said.  
"Fine," rumbled the orc, "but try not to move. Little bones require littler stitches."  
O'Toregarde murmured assent and looked at Doyle. "My partner was in danger. I did what I could to end the threat. I'll admit it wasn't the greatest plan-"  
"That was not a plan!" the older woman spat. "What you had was a barely strung together set of bad ideas." The tail of her hair flicked out again, as Doyle turned away, running a hand down her face.  
"At least I found out he has Watchmen on his payroll," O'Toregaude said, smiling dreamily. Lieutenant Doyle turned back sharply.  
"What did you say?"  
"Watchmen. On his books."  
"And he told you this?" Doyle asked, putting hands on her hips, and staring down at that younger woman.  
"Not with his words."  
Doyle gave a frustrated huff and growled.  
"I did warn you," Komens muttered, not looking up from his needle and thread.  
"Explain yourself," Doyle said, ignoring Komens.  
"He said he had loads of coppers on his books. He looked away and at the floor, but also flicked his pipe to the other side of his mouth. So: a half-truth. We have dirty Watchmen somewhere in the city, but not many." O'Toregaurde smiled again. "He was considering my offer, which means whoever he does have isn't a specialist. Seems he likes the small and silent type." She giggled. Doyle rolled her eyes, glancing at Komens.  
"You think she's right?" she asked the orc.  
Komens finished tying off his stitches and sat back on his heels. "She does have an uncanny knack of reading folk," he said, reaching for a bottle of rubbing alcohol. "I'd trust what she says."  
"Maybe we can salvage this after all," Doyle said. She rubbed her face again, giving a tired sigh. "That's some good work, Constable," she added grudgingly.  
"Atta girl," Komens said glancing back at Doyle, the alcohol in his hand. "Now come hold her down, because this is gonna sting, and I know for a fact she has a kick like a mule."

~ Fin ~


End file.
